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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380482">Empty Eyes and the Broken Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingMagi/pseuds/TheWritingMagi'>TheWritingMagi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2000 Words or Less [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Childhood Trauma, Eldigan's Death, Flashbacks, Gen, Separate Childhoods, Sibling Bonding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:29:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingMagi/pseuds/TheWritingMagi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You despicable monster!” Sigurd screeched like a cornered animal. Lachesis didn’t hear him, nor Chagall’s frenzied laughter. Her heart had gone cold, her body numb, and her voice lost to despair.</p><p>Eldigan, the lionheart and golden son of Nordion, was dead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eltshan | Eldigan &amp; Raquesis | Lachesis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2000 Words or Less [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1045560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Writer's Zine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Empty Eyes and the Broken Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It took a few moments, the blood rushing through her ears quieting her surroundings, before Lachesis realized Sigurd was screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It should be a scream of physical pain: she knew, as she was a healer and had heard every iteration of it. And it was, in some capacity, and she would have turned to see what wound had caused Sigurd’s anguished cries had they not been both watching Silvail castle’s terrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silvail had been taken. Sigurd—and Lachesis as well—should be celebrating their victory over the indignant Agustrian kingslayer. Bloodshed had been largely avoided, soldiers who had been threatened into following orders had been spared… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had met on the battlefield. They were opposite one another, where her dear Eldigan had sworn to convince Chagall to surrender, to reach a truce with Sigurd’s staggering force. Lachesis believed it had been Eldigan’s doing, Chagall’s swift defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eldie… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It should have been her brother’s smiling face they found on the terrace. He should have been as glad as Sigurd to see the end of Chagall’s cruel reign over Agustria, head held high and standing tall as a knight should.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Lachesis found dull golden eyes, sightless and empty beneath glittering hair gripped in a tyrant’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what happens to traitors!” Chagall was shouting, the triumph drowned out by his hysteria. “Agustria will be mine once again, and you’ll all face the same fate!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You despicable monster!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sigurd screeched like a cornered animal. Lachesis didn’t hear him, nor Chagall’s frenzied laughter. Her heart had gone cold, her body numb, and her voice lost to despair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eldigan, the lionheart and golden son of Nordion, was dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you Eldigan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy who glowed like fresh flowing honey in the moonlight looked up. He stared at her, not so much surprised as curious, then said, “Are you Lachesis?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl, who shone like the sunrise in that same moonlight, blinked. She was not surprised either. Her and this boy were bound to meet eventually, sharing the same blood of their father. It had instead been a matter of when the fated meeting would happen. When would Eldigan appear, the supposed teenage heir of Nordion, with hair that gleamed like gold as hers did? When would the prince come and find Lachesis?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And would he treat Lachesis the same as their father and her mother treated her, always a second thought?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lachesis had resented this boy for some years now, having not even met him. She should have been male, her mother told her, so she could have competed with that </span>
  <em>
    <span>witch’s son</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the rule of Nordion. Lachesis should have been better. Lachesis should have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>favoured, </span>
  </em>
  <span>her mother would say. Instead she was the daughter to be married off, to be forgotten, only a pawn of the king. A mere piece on the board and not the player herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eldigan, however, was set to inherit Nordion with no contest or rival, the king who would hold the pieces. He was peerless in his training and excelled in his thorough education, thus their father paid full attention to him and consequently missed the better part of Lachesis’ eight years alive. This meant the past eight years of Lachesis’ mother’s life as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mother resented Lachesis like an irreversible mistake, and so Lachesis loathed the beloved son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as she and this boy watched each other, taking in the identical eyes, identical hair, identical downturn of their lips, she wondered if perhaps he would be different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, perhaps not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Lachesis finally replied, the distaste on her tongue sharpening the word. “So you are my brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you my sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eldigan smiled as he said this. Lachesis was astonished to find that it was soft, beautiful even, and not at all like their father’s twisted grimace when he saw her out of necessity. There was love there, she realized, love for someone he didn’t even know. How could that be? Lachesis had </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> him all her life, how could he feel such a thing toward her— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to play with me?” he asked her. Lachesis noticed the chess board set before him on the window sill, softly lit by the full moon overhead. Surprise overtook her, surprise at his lack of questions and her unwillingness to ask her own, so much so that she instinctively nodded before a word of protest could be uttered. Eldigan’s smile widened in response, even more beautiful than before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve improved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lachesis flushed at the words, but made a point to roll her eyes. “You sound disappointed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eldigan laughed. The sound was clear and melodic, nothing short of music to her ears. “At this rate, you will outplay me more often than not. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Then</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’ll find yourself outmatched. Will you not be tired of chess after that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at her, looking up from the board between them. “My strategy is not so perfect by any means, Lachesis. I learn something new about the game every time I play. Sigurd always finds flaws in how I use my pawns, such as not using them to their full potential. Apparently that is an often occurrence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course you don’t. That would mean sacrificing them, wouldn’t it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lachesis moved a piece to draw her brother’s attention back to the board. “Your ability remains my goal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They mulled over the silence for a good while, trapped in their own thoughts, until Eldigan spoke again. “I know you don’t wish for me to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lachesis sighed and left the board altogether. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know I am not the only one who feels that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grahnye understands, and Ares will as well when he is older—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chagall is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> his father!” Lachesis interjected. “Imuka was beloved by far more than just you. Do you see any of them leaping between Chagall and the consequences of his mistakes? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do not</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to be fighting his pointless battles for him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is my </span>
  <em>
    <span>king.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What was the point of my oath to Imuka if I abandon his son now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should not leave your life in his hands when you have a family to protect, Eldigan!” Lachesis quickly reigned her temper, breathing her frustration out before starting again. “You should remain with them now more than ever. Chagall will meet his fate either way: you should not follow him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eldigan, you cannot—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lachesis,” Eldigan said soothingly. “Peace, Sister. I will not forfeit my life in this war, nor will allow my king to. Do you see me saying a final goodbye to my wife and son? To you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched each other, eyes intent on taking in the other’s emotions. Lachesis’s heart beat painfully in her chest at his words and she wondered if it was the feeling of her heart breaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me you will return home safe,” was all she could manage through the lump in her throat. “Please come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will come home, I swear to you. This will not be goodbye, dear sister, not today. You and I will see each other again.”</span>
</p>
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